With the picks locked in, Damon moved straight into training.
Routine was easy to fall into. There were schedules, drills, and fighters who listened.
Coaching wasn't easy, he respected that now, but it helped that he had a strong support system.
His assistants handled the warmups and cooldowns, his strength coach managed conditioning, and his striking coach reinforced the basics.
Damon could focus on each fighter's real needs.
But today wasn't going to be a normal training day.
The show allowed something special, each coach could, once or twice during the season, invite a guest fighter.
Someone from the outside. Someone respected. Whether they were retired legends, current champions, or just fighters with a unique skill set, they could come in and run a session or even just spar, observe, and advise.
Damon had been thinking about it for a while. He didn't want to bring in someone just for a reaction.
He wanted someone who could actually help. Someone who would push the fighters but also give them a real look at what elite-level pressure felt like.
He'd finally landed on one guy.
The kind of name that made people perk up when they heard it.
Today, he'd show up at the gym. And Damon knew exactly what he wanted his fighters to take from it.
Damon watched the clock and let the current drill play out.
The fighters were circling through pad work and light grappling warmups, each of them focused, but showing signs of curiosity, he'd hinted that today might be different.
He gave it a few more minutes, then clapped his hands sharply.
"Alright, everyone bring it in!"
The fighters stopped mid-motion, some grabbing water, others wiping sweat off their foreheads as they jogged over.
Max was the first to drop his gloves and move in.
José followed, eyes sharp. Kaito, always calm, leaned on the back railing before stepping forward.
Once they were gathered, Damon gave them a second to settle down.
"I've been watching you guys closely these last few weeks. You've all improved. Some of you just fought, others are getting ready. Either way, I want you to see what high-level looks like in real time."
A few heads tilted, curious.
"So today… we've got someone special coming in. A guest. Someone who's not just one of the best in his field, but one of the best to ever do it. Period."
Max's brows raised. José turned to the others. Kaito blinked and straightened slightly.
Damon smirked at their reactions but kept going.
"He's retired now. Doesn't do this kind of thing often. But he's making an exception. I want you all to pay attention, ask questions if you get the chance, and above all, soak up what you see. Every movement. Every habit. He's coming to work, not talk."
He paused, then gave a final glance toward the door.
"Please guys, let's give a round of applause for our guest, James 'Bones' Jonas."
The fighters looked toward the entrance as the door opened.
James "Bones" Jonas stepped through with an easy smile and a calm, composed presence that carried weight.
He wasn't in fighting shape anymore, but he didn't need to be. His aura filled the room.
The beard was fuller now, his shoulders still broad, and while his pace was relaxed, every movement felt intentional, like a man who knew exactly how to carry himself in every room he entered.
He stopped just past the door, hands clasped in front of him, scanning the fighters with a peaceful expression that didn't match the stories told about his fights.
"Thank you, guys," Jonas said softly, his voice low but clear. "Appreciate that welcome."
Damon stepped back, letting him take center.
"I'm not here to coach," Jonas continued, still looking around, eyes locking with each fighter. "I'm here to share. I've made mistakes in my life. I've also had some of the best nights a man can ask for in that cage. If anything I've learned can help you… I'll feel like I gave something back to this sport."
There was a quiet respect in the air. No applause now. Just attention.
"Some of you probably already got an opinion about me," Jonas said with a smile that didn't fade. "That's okay. What matters is today. Right now. Let's see what you got."
His tone never rose, but it didn't have to. The way he spoke, measured, humble, but sure, carried the same cadence James Jones had always used.
Like he was just grateful to be there. Like everything he said was honest, even when it was carefully chosen.
Max glanced at José. Kaito had already straightened his stance. Even the quieter fighters like Kenji and Elias paid closer attention.
Damon crossed his arms and leaned against the cage wall, watching them all. He didn't say anything else. He didn't need to.
Jonas clapped his hands once.
In the second gym space, Ivan stood near the edge of the mats, arms folded. His team had finished their drills and stood waiting, curious.
The atmosphere was stiff. Everyone had been on edge since their teammates lost.
Ivan had been quiet most of the week. Focused, but quiet.
He had pulled his guest card too.
Unlike Damon, he didn't need to search far. The man was already part of Ivan's fighting team, was his coach.
Someone who rarely made public appearances and didn't speak much, but when he did, people paid attention.
Ivan raised his voice, keeping it even.
"Alright. You've all trained hard. But training here won't be enough. You need to feel pressure. Real pressure."
He paused, then gave a short nod toward the door.
"Today, we have someone joining us. A fighter I respect. One of the most dominant champions in the sport. Welcome, Kamil Murnamadov."
The room fell silent.
Kamil stepped in without saying a word. He wore a plain black tracksuit, zipped to the collar.
His beard was neat. His eyes looked focused and calm.
He didn't wave. Didn't nod to the cameras. He walked straight to Ivan, shook his hand, then turned to face the team.
Even fighters who had grown up in different scenes, Americans like Chase, scrappers like Leo, recognized him. Kamil was a known name. Undefeated.
Famous not for trash talk or drama, but for the fact that no one could stop his pressure. He didn't out-point opponents. He mauled them.
"You want to win, then stop pretending training is enough. You train hard? Good. So do the men you'll fight. Doesn't matter."
He looked from one face to the next. No one interrupted.